


don't cry, no one blames you for loving someone

by sempre_balla



Category: CLAMP - Works, X -エックス- | X/1999
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, M/M, a good case of me trying to ignore canon because it makes me too sad, a good case of the flangst, aka they hug and kiss and it's sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-25
Updated: 2018-05-25
Packaged: 2019-05-13 15:06:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14751179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sempre_balla/pseuds/sempre_balla
Summary: “And what happens then?” Fuuma whispers. Kamui feels the words rather than hears them, and a shiver runs down his spine. “To your happiness?”“I… I don’t…”Fuuma tilts his head to the side and trails his lips from Kamui’s mouth through his cheek to his ear.“If I want you to be to always be happy too, then what?”





	don't cry, no one blames you for loving someone

**Author's Note:**

> I was seriously in dire need of fics of pre-"Kamui" Fuuma and Kamui being darlings together since they're so goddamn sweet it almost hurts but the shortage of them made me desperate enough to write this. I'm warm and emotional and I love these two very very much. 
> 
> Takes place in volume 6, but let's pretend that Fuuma's not going nutso by his inner "Kamui" for a moment and that he gets to just be a super sweet and supportive boyfriend to Kamui like he would've done by his own will

Kamui sits on the edge of the couch, fiddling with his too long sleeves. The Monou household hasn’t changed one bit in the past six years, but its residents have without a doubt. He doesn’t want to think about Uncle, so he draws his knees up to his chest and hugs them, inhaling the scent of the clothes he has borrowed from Fuuma. He knows he’s not particularly tall and he’d always thought Fuuma would be taller than him when they grew up, but the clothes are _massive_ on Kamui’s body. The shoulders of the shirt sag and the sleeves reach past his hands, and if he hadn’t rolled up the legs of the pants he knew they’d be dragging against the ground. The much needed belt and the fact that not a single button of the shirt is undone are the only thing keeping the clothes on him, but… he likes it. It feels like Fuuma himself is cuddling him from behind, wrapping him up in a safe embrace that envelops his whole body. Which, considering Fuuma’s current size and his continued habit of touching him every time they’re near each other, could happen if he just let his friend get close.

But that’s the issue. He can’t let Fuuma get close. He _wants_ him close, he misses him and Kotori terribly, he wants to smile at them and tell them he loves them more than anything in the world, but he can’t. He is lonely, he is sad and he is lost, but he can’t seek the company of those he loves. He can’t drag them into this whole... this whole thing. The End of the World. The Divine Sword. His decision. The angels and the seals. He has to protect what is left of the Monou family from all that.

The door to the living room opens, and he jolts in his seat, bringing his legs down and straightening his spine. He briefly glances at Fuuma, but he can’t hold his friend’s sincere gace for long.

“How is Kotori?” He asks, staring at the ground as Fuuma makes his way to the opposite couch.

“She’s alright!” Fuuma reassures, and Kamui sighs in relief. “She took some medication and is sleeping in her room. She isn’t hurt, so there is nothing to worry about… so talk to me. Why did you disappear from Tokyo without saying a word six years ago?”

Kamui inhales sharply and lowers his head, hoping his bangs will cover his watery eyes. He doesn’t want to have this conversation, but he has nowhere to run, and he doesn’t know if the silent approach to it all will work. Fuuma’s persistent, after all.

“Kamui…” Fuuma continues, and he speaks his name with so much caution and affection that Kamui almost sobs. “You don’t want to tell me…?”

 _Yes, badly_ , he thinks, but he stays silent and tries to remain composed and cold. So Fuuma keeps going, because Fuuma’s persistent, and Kamui loves that about him.

“Kamui, do you remember?” Fuuma asks, and at that Kamui does look up and locks gazes with Fuuma. As soon as he does, he knows he’s messed up— he doesn’t want to ever look away. “When we were playing here at Tokakushi Shrine, you suddenly said you wanted to be Kotori’s bride? You promised me then that you would never make Kotori cry. Do you remember what I promised you then?”

Of course he does. Kamui could never forget the way in which Fuuma’s smile widened into something that felt like sunshine, and the way he tightened his pinky around Kamui’s. He could never forget the warm embrace of Fuuma’s words, the way he had clung to a promise that he wanted to do nothing but submit to.

_Then, I’ll also make a promise with you! If you are going to protect Kotori, Kamui…_

“I will protect you,” the Fuuma in front of Kamui says, his voice lower and deeper than his child counterpart, but just as firm and just as sweet.

And it’s too much, it’s too damn much. The memory of that promise alone had been one thing, but Fuuma in the flesh, solid and sturdy and warm and _real_ saying it is too much. If he hears any more, he won’t be able to keep his cool, so he slams his hands on the table and stands up abruptly. Fuuma is faster than he’d expected, however, and he seizes Kamui’s wrist and pulls him into a tight embrace— Fuuma’s large hands cupping his head and his shoulders and pressing him into his broad chest.

Kamui almost lets himself go and relaxes into the hug, but he can’t. He can’t. He pushes his hands against Fuuma’s chest and backs away, but Fuuma keeps his grip on his arms firm and leans down to be at eye level.

“You can’t trust me?” Fuuma whispers, squeezing Kamui’s arm lightly. “Am I not reliable enough for you?”

And just like that, Kamui’s resolve breaks. He shakes his head because he can’t be unresponsive when Fuuma’s voice is so laced with hurt, when the words he says make it feel like he’s so small, a little irrelevant thing that doesn’t match with the heavy presence Fuuma has in Kamui’s heart.

“No, it’s not that,” Kamui says, because it really isn’t. Kamui trusts Fuuma more than anyone else in the world, he wants to rely on him so badly it hurts.

“Can’t I do anything?” Fuuma asks, and Kamui shakes his head again, this time more violently.

“No!” He says, pushing against Fuuma’s chest again, his whole body trembling as he balls his fists into Fuuma’s shirt. “It’s… not… that…” He whimpers, his voice small as he falls back on the couch, one hand still gripping Fuuma’s shirt right above his heart. “I don’t want to get you guys involved… Kotori… or you, Fuuma. I don’t want to get you into what is going to be happening around me in the near future.” He brings his hands to his face and vaguely registers Fuuma kneeling in front of him. It’s like a dam has opened, and the words he has been holding back just keep pouring out. “I want you guys to be happy all the time. I want everyone in the Monou family to always be happy… But as soon as I returned… Uncle…”

He can’t help it this time; he sobs at the memory of a man that had been like family to him, bleeding on the floors of the shrine. It’s all his fault, everything, all of it. If he doesn’t pull away, the same fate will follow Fuuma and Kotori, and he can’t have that. He _needs_ to pull away.

Fuuma grabs his chin a little more roughly than usual, but his grip is still gentle when he forces Kamui’s head up so he can make eye contact. Fuuma is close. Very close.

“Fuuma…” Kamui says, unsure of what to do when Fuuma starts tilting his head forward, bringing their faces closer together. “Fuuma, what…?”

He doesn’t get to finish that sentence, because Fuuma’s lips are on his and Kamui’s brain short-circuits. The kiss is brief and barely there, just a small brush of lips that still punches Kamui’s breath out of him. Fuuma pulls away just slightly, enough for Kamui to be able to look into his eyes without going cross-eyed but not enough for their breaths to stop mingling together.

“And what happens then?” Fuuma whispers. Kamui feels the words rather than hears them, and a shiver runs down his spine. “To your happiness?”

“I… I don’t…”

He doesn’t get to finish that sentence either, because Fuuma is kissing him again, a little harder and a little longer. It’s still just a touch and nothing more, but Fuuma’s lips are soft and warm and inviting and they feel _really_ _good_. Fuuma is the one to pull away again, but this time he tilts his head to the side and trails his lips from Kamui’s mouth through his cheek to his ear.

“If I want you to be to always be happy too, then what?”

Kamui’s breath catches, and only then he realizes that he had closed his eyes and fisted his hands on Fuuma’s shirt again. Fuuma pulls back and stares at him in the eyes while he shifts his hand to cup Kamui’s cheek. It covers almost his entire head, it’s a little rough but very gentle and very warm, and Kamui’s pulse hammers in his chest as he leans his head into Fuuma’s palm.

“Fuuma…” he says, completely out of breath (because that is the only word he can think of at the moment, and he clings onto it like a lifeline).

“If you pull away again, I’ll chase you until the ends of the earth,” Fuuma says as he brushes his thumb over Kamui’s cheekbone. “I’m not losing you again, Kamui. Not when I finally have you back in my arms.”

“Please, Fuuma… it’s dangerous.”

“So?” Fuuma asks, stealing another light kiss that makes Kamui almost whimper.

“You’ll get hurt,” he says, but closes his eyes when Fuuma leans in to kiss him again.

“That doesn’t matter,” Fuuma says against his lips. The movement makes Kamui shiver again.

“Then what matters?” He asks.

Fuuma doesn’t answer, not immediately. Instead, he cups Kamui’s face with both of his hands and angles his head a certain way before kissing him again. It’s still a slow, tender thing, but it’s deeper, the pressure is firmer, the intent is clearer. Fuuma’s lips are slightly parted, so Kamui parts his too to give Fuuma better access. He hasn’t even noticed, but he’s leaning his full weight against the backrest of the couch, letting Fuuma press him into it and wrapping his legs loosely around his best friend’s torso. Fuuma pulls away right as Kamui starts running out of breath. He opens his eyes slowly and looks at him, expectant.

“You,” Fuuma answers, as breathless as Kamui feels. “Only you."

Self-control be damned. Distance be damned. Kamui throws his arms around Fuuma’s neck and holds him tight as the other boy kisses his tears away. He lets himself be pushed back into the couch and wraps his legs tightly around Fuuma’s waist, bringing him so close that he envelops him fully just like his clothes had done. He’s kissed breathless again. And again. And again.

Everything be damned. The End of the World can wait for now.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I wasn't gonna post this because the x fandom is as dead as it can get and it's 2k18 but it made my best friend happy and I quite like how it turned out so here it is. If it could make anyone else happy, I'll be very happy myself!!
> 
> title is from secret sorrow, the god-tier ending for the x anime


End file.
